


Modern Romance

by iloveyoudie



Series: Sure would be a bummer if he got shot and died... [12]
Category: Endeavour (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Domestic Boyfriends, Drunken Confessions, M/M, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:07:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26748520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iloveyoudie/pseuds/iloveyoudie
Summary: Halfway across the room he heard it again, a sound that he knew now was absolutelyhis namebeing yelled and he sidled up to the window to look outside. It was hard to see with the glare of the lights on the glass so he rattled the old window open just in time to have a small pebble of gravel hit him in the nose.
Relationships: Ronnie Box/George Fancy
Series: Sure would be a bummer if he got shot and died... [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1695859
Comments: 14
Kudos: 13





	Modern Romance

_Plink._

Something solid hit George’s window pane and then clattered noisily against the bricks before all was silent again. 

It wasn’t ungodly late but the shops were closed and most people were in bed or headed to. The cool weather was kicking in so George was living in one of Ronnie jumpers, face buried in it up to the nose so he could inhale his lingering smell while the rest of his body folded up inside of it cross-legged. His significant other wasn’t staying over tonight, gone out with his squad for some sport fantasy draft thing at the pub and it was closer to his own flat than it was to George’s. 

Not a big deal. He’d see him tomorrow. Ronnie had been texting him all night, besides. 

He’d sent him screenshots of his draft sheet and asked George’s opinion on the players. George, not knowing a goddamn about American football, only entertained helping him once he’d been sent their photos. Fittest choices won. Then he’d gotten a pic of his meal. His beer. A line of shot glasses on the bar filled up with something radioactive green. A sneaky blurred photo of a woman wearing low cut leopard print and teal eyeshadow whose tits were nearly falling out of her top. He’d even gotten pre-pub bathroom mirror pics of Ronnie freshly showered and wearing a new shirt George had gotten him. When they first started dating he’d almost never sent photos, and he still didn’t a lot of the time, but George had noticed that when they weren’t together Ronnie was a bit more giving in that regard. He was very sweet all around actually, not that most people would believe it. Last week’s night out with the lads ended with Ronnie in the carpark, phoning up George as he had a cigarette to tell him that his friends were having a stupid row over a girl, they were boring fucking idiots who were too old for that shit, and that he’d wished George was there with him instead. 

He’d actually said the words ‘I miss you.’ 

Now matter how long they were together, George still got flutters thinking about it. 

There was another plink against the window pane. George had been so absorbed in the Best of Big Brother (Ron’s damn fault - a new addictive payback for Grand Designs), eyes glazed and brain empty, that he’d barely even registered the first. The second had him perking up. 

Next, there was a distant sound. 

Was someone yelling in the street? 

George grabbed his phone and checked it, not sure why it would tell him anything but the time, and then unfolded from the sofa and his jumper cocoon to move towards the window. Halfway across the room he heard it again, a sound that he knew now was absolutely _his name_ being yelled and he sidled up to the window to look outside. It was hard to see with the glare of the lights on the glass so he rattled the old window open just in time to have a small pebble of gravel hit him in the nose. 

“-the fuck?!” It nearly hit him in the eye but was tiny and fell lamely down onto the chest of the jumper and onto the window sill. 

“There ‘e is!” Came an excited, triumphant cry from below. 

“Ronnie?” George leaned out and braced on his palms as the cool evening breeze gusted through his hair, “What’re you doing here?” 

“Can’t come see ya?” He was drunk. It wasn’t immediately obvious but the more words that he attempted to string together the more obvious it became. On George’s appearance at the window, he shifted on his feet, tried to get more in view, and bobbled unsteadily. Ronnie moved loosely at the best of times, smooth with swagger and nonchalance, but drunk he practically turned into liquid. 

“ _Why’m I here_?” Ronnie muttered low with disbelief. He snorted and fished about inside of his leather jacket, “ _Why’m I here…?!_ ” 

A cigarette appeared, was tapped onto the back of the pack sloppily, put to his lips, and after several frustrating lighter flicks, was lit. Box took a long drag, braced himself on the nearest light pole and then barked up at George, “Cause I love you, you git!” 

George had been enjoying the catastrophic show. His phone was still in his hand so mid-way through cigarette lighting he’d started to take a video of him. The loud proclamation of love made him laugh. 

“You’re pissed, babe,” George said, not hiding that he was aiming the camera at him, “And you’re screamin’ and it’s like… late as hell.” 

“So?!” Box sounded mildly offended, not at George, but at the entire concept that he should be quiet, “What? A bloke can’t yell about how much he loves his - bloke -” he was getting lost somewhere in the details and there was a pause as his mind drifted and then picked back up again, “outside his window all romantic and shit? M’bloody Romeo righ’now.” 

George grinned and laughed again, “You coulda come inside and told me.” 

“S’locked up and... my phone’s dead!” Box yelled again, this time because he’d remembered and seemed proud of that fact. 

“You’ve got a key, man,” George snickered. 

Ronnie blinked, patted himself down, fished in his pockets again, and finally produced a moderately sized ring of keys. His eyebrows rose in surprise and all he said around the cigarette hanging limply from his lips was a pleased sounding, “ _Ayyyyyyy…_ ” 

“Babe, please tell me you didn’t drive…” 

Ronnie’s face contorted and a column of ash fell from his cigarette to the ground because he’d yet to take it out of his mouth, “No. I’m not er- erre- irrss-” He plucked the cigarette away between two fingers, “I’m pissed, not an idiot!” 

“A bit of an idiot,” George’s smile was static. Drunken clown, yes, but his drunken clown, “Come inside now.” 

Ronnie looked like he’d melted a bit into the pole he leaned against. He was looking up at George with a dreamy sort of expression in the sharp contrast of the street lights. He sighed, “You’re so fuckin handsome.” 

George could feel his face flood with warmth. He leaned out a bit more but put his phone away finally for fear that he may drop it from the second floor to its death. He hushed his voice, suddenly much more conscious of the volume, “Get inside. _Please._ ” 

Ronnie still smiled glassily. He took a drag of his cigarette and stuffed his hand and keys back in his jacket pocket again as if he’d forgotten why he even had them out, “Fuckin love you babe.” 

George rubbed a hand over his face, even over his lingering smile. He was doing his best to be strict here but it was hard when Ronnie freaking Box was performing his version of a courtship ritual out on the street in front of his window, “Love you too. Now come inside so I can snog that stupid look off your face.” 

Somewhere down the block George saw an outdoor light turn on. It was probably unrelated but he was sure it would only be a few minutes before someone decided enough was enough with the noise. 

Ronnie’s brows lifted as he took another steadying drag of his cigarette. The word snog seemed to have cut through his lovey haze, “Snog?” He flashed a watery grin, “Bit'a kiss kiss for old Ronnie boy?” 

George groaned and laughed all in the same breath. He threw his head back in frustration as he kept hold of the window sill, “God, you’re _trashed_. I’m closing this window in one second and you better be up those stairs.” 

George kept his word, pulling the rattling old window shut right in the middle of what he thought was Ronnie saying something about Bossy!George being sort of hot. He didn’t immediately go to the door, instead he sunk out of view and peeked out to watch Ronnie take another hit of his cigarette, nearly drop it on himself, and then stomp the thing into the pavement with a string of too-loud curses as if it had done him some sort of personal offense. He made as if to say something else aloud, opened his mouth and looked up at the window again, but finding it closed he remembered that he was supposed to be going inside and shot a very animated finger gun at the door. 

George snickered and popped into the group chat to send the lads the video of Ron yelling from the street followed by a string of heart eyes emojis and laughing/crying faces before he finally moved to the door of the flat and unlocked it. He could hear Ronnie’s boots slowly making their way up the stairs, accompanied by a sort of dragging sound that he knew to be his shoulder leaning heavily on the wall. 

George peered around the doorway and watched Ronnie plod his way up to the flat, eyes cast determinedly down at his feet and his brow pulled tight in that thinking squint, until he glanced up and saw George and burst into that off-kilter grin again, “Georgie boooy..” 

“Do you need help?” George smirked as Ronnie found his motivation and hauled himself more swiftly up the last couple of stairs. The edge of his boot sole hit the top stair and he stumbled towards the door frame, just enough for George to feel the need to lunge for him for safety. Ronnie’s arm shot out to stop himself at the same time, grabbing for George too, and in a weirdly smooth - but at the same time stumbling - motion he managed to fold George into his arms and fall back hard into the door’s coving at the same time. If it hurt, he didn’t react. Ronnie only hummed in satisfaction to be finally embracing the other. 

George’s face smushed into his chest and shoulder. The cool night air still hung on him and he smelled of the leather of his jacket and the heavy fresh scent of his cigarettes chased by the sort of pub aroma that always came along with a night out. Under it all was that spicey Ronnie scent, cologne and deodorant, a shop’s worth of grooming products he used for everything from his hair to toning his skin to shaving. 

The hug went on for a while, Ronnie’s face pressed into George’s hair, and he was very quiet for longer than was normal. 

“Babe..” George realized and tried to ease himself free, “Did you just fall asleep?” 

“Mm?” Ronnie jerked his head up and huffed out a breath that simply wreaked of alcohol, “No.” 

“Fuckin hell,” George drew back with a cringe and finally extracted himself enough to pull Ronnie the few steps necessary to get him into the flat, “Breath smells like Morse after one of his breakups.” 

Box grunted at that but as soon as he’d taken a step inside and had the flat door shut behind him, he seemed to forget it again. His jacket was tugged off in a fumble and thrown on a chair and his body followed, drifting in a liquidy half-step-half-fall until he was tumbling to spread out across the sofa face down. 

George was half tempted to just sit on top of him with the way he’d taken over the entire thing, but instead he fetched a big glass of water and plopped himself down on the floor right in front, right at face level, and once more pulled out his phone. He took a photo, Ronnie looking half dead, something to taunt him with later. He looked a bit like a corpse, if corpses were still stupidly handsome and with great arses in those jeans. 

"Got you a glass of water, babe," George reached out and petted his hair which still clung with the autumn cool. 

"Yer an angel," Box muttered into the cushion without opening his eyes, "Love you." 

George leaned in and pressed a kiss to one of his cheeks, “How was your draft thing?” 

Ronnie seemed to smirk but it was hard to tell, “Okay.” 

“How’re the lads?” 

“Okay.” 

“Any funny shenanigans tonight?” 

A grumbled unintelligible noise. 

“Take that as a no,” George muttered in response. Ronnie had fallen silent again, his eyes closed, his breathing coming deep and loud but not quite with sleep, instead in the efforted way of drunkenness, as if to think about the act would stop it from happening. George set his phone on the coffee table just as it dinged a couple of times. He didn’t check it, just moved toward Ronnie’s feet. 

“C’mon,” He tried to roll him over by grabbing his legs and lifting them but Ronnie was like dead weight. This would require cooperation, “Let’s get these boots off.” 

Box grumbled but seemed to think it was a good idea. He rolled onto his back, threw an arm across his eyes, and held his feet out so George could remove them. They were unzipped, wriggled off, and set down off to the side. Socks came next. 

“Better?” George smirked. 

Box hummed, moved his arm, and caught George with another glance and smile, “Yea.” 

“What?” George scooted back towards his head and took a sip of the water which had yet to be touched. 

“Just love you,” Ron said again in a watery voice. 

“You keep saying that but I’m not sure if it’s true-” George smirked and laid his head on Ronnie’s chest just as the older man made a disgruntled sound. 

“Why not? What I do?” 

George sighed dramatically, “I don’t know. Show up yelling, take over my sofa, smell like a pub loo and not even drink this crispy delicious water I brought you..” 

“S’only yellin how much I love you-” Ronnie finally decided to prop himself up on his elbows with a harsh squint and when he did, George lifted his head and held out the glass of water which he now had no choice but to take. 

George found it funny that the only thing he argued was about the yelling. 

“Go on. Drink it all,” He watched him. 

Ronnie chugged it. All in one go. Chugged it straight down and then held out the empty, “Happy?” 

“Yes.” 

He lay back down threw his arm over his eyes again. He muttered into his elbow - something low about not understanding why George was mad at him, but George didn’t value it with an answer. Instead he folded back up inside the jumper her wore, let Ronnie’s free arm encircle his shoulders loosely, and went back to Big Brother, “Gonna finish this episode, alright?” 

Ronnie grunted. 

“Then bed. Okay?”   


“Love you..” Ronnie muttered again as if he didn’t know what else to say. Maybe it was all he was feeling. 

That thought gave George another little flutter. He picked up his phone and checked his messages. Jim had sent a sequence of shifty side-eyes followed by a peach and an eggplant. Morse had sent a puke face. He made sure to take a new selfie, him with Ronnie’s arm around him, and then an emoji face sticking out its tongue. 

His head sunk further into the oversized jumper until his chin rested on Ronnie’s arm which still curled securely around his shoulder and chest, and he spaced back out into the telly until the show finally ended. It was Ronnie who squeezed him then, and when George turned to look at him he was still on his back in the same position but this time his eyes were slivers and it seemed he’d also been watching the show. 

“Bed?” 

Ronnie grunted, “Loo.” 

“Fair enough. Need help standin?” 

Another grunt. 

The process of getting up, moving, and everything else was not actually as daunting as it seemed. The kip Ronnie had on the sofa charged enough internal battery to take him to the bathroom and he emerged just as George had finished the nightly lock up and dumped his evening’s dishes in the sink. He was loitering at the foot of the bed, once again on his phone, when Ronnie joined him in the bedroom with a washed face and finally stripped of his stinking clothes. He stood up to greet him with a smile and sneak past to make his own trip to the loo. 

“That my jumper?” Ron caught George with a pinch of the loose fabric and stopped him. 

“Yeah,” George smiled. 

“Looks cute,” Ronnie said with a tired smile and without his usual cheeky filter. He tugged it again, more for his attention now, “You promised me a snog.” 

He’d forgotten, but didn’t mind overly much when Ronnie tugged him one more time, this time in against him for a kiss. It was minty fresh and damp clean skin and the day’s scratch of stubble. Sometimes you could get used to kissing your spouse, things had a tendency to get casual and comfortable, but then sometimes you kissed them and it tumbled your insides over because it _was_ regular, and there was something indefinably wonderful about it and it reminded you how and why you had gotten there in the first place. 

This was one of those kisses. 

The lights were already out when George finished his bathroom trip and slid between the sheets to join Ronnie in bed. He wriggled close as the other man’s arm automatically reached for him and closed around him. There was even a little hint of the alcohol still on the back of his breath as he kissed George on the forehead and muttered another sleepy sounding, “Love you.” 

George laughed. 

“What?” 

“That’s all you’ve said all night.” 

“S’ere a problem?” With the lights down, Box’s eyes were nothing but reflective points in the dark. 

“No. S’just not like you.” 

George heard an indignant snort in the dark. 

“Ok then…” George snuggled in closer and used his coy, needling, cute pain-in-the-ass voice, “Tell me when you first knew you loved me.”He closed his eyes and tucked his head under Ronnie’s chin. 

Ronnie hummed and then he yawned and then without very much thought at all he said, “Like the first week.” 

George heard the words rumble through the man’s chest where he was pressed against him but he didn’t really believe it, “What?” 

“Yeah,” Box yawned again and there was absolutely no follow up explanation. 

George knew they hadn’t said they’d love one another until they’d been seeing one another for a little while. Yes, _he’d_ been too attached sooner than he should have at the beginning but that was normal for him. It hadn’t struck him that Ronnie was too. 

“What?” He repeated with a tiny head shake of disbelief. 

Ronnie nodded in the dark, “Don’t know when exactly when but.. you hugged me. Like not for a shag or a snog or a cuddle or whatever. You just like saw me and lit up and hugged me like you meant it. Noone had done that since- I dunno when.” 

George felt a prickling warmth across his face and touching at his eyes. It was much more emotional than he expected to get from such a stupid question posed to hang-up his drunk boyfriend, “Babe-” 

“S’fine. I mean I didn’t really know what I was feelin at the time,” Box shrugged, “Heart attack maybe what with the chest ache-” 

George coughed out something between a laugh and crying, “Fuck-iin” he coughed again, “hell.” 

Ronnie chuckled and squeezed him, “You imagine me going to Debryn like ‘think I’m havin a coronary doc’?” 

George put on his Max voice, droll and nasal, lifting himself from Ronnie’s chest to poke him authoritatively “DI Box I’m afraid you’ve caught a case of the feels.” 

Ronnie laughed now too, “Stop I’ll get a headache-” 

They devolved into a mess of chuckling. George fell back flat against Ronnie and after a while it just went quiet between them aside from their breathing and subtle body shifts for comfort. George didn’t know what to say now, the whole evening had been adorably bizarre, and that final confession had been so sweet it took the wind from him. 

“Love you too babe,” He murmured. 

Ronnie grunted and squeezed him. 

So he squeezed him back and made a mental note not to forget, “And I’ll hug you whenever you want.” 

**Author's Note:**

> just want ronnie box to get a hug is all


End file.
